


Your Idiots

by JustGettingBy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGettingBy/pseuds/JustGettingBy
Summary: Over the years, Hakoda's heard many stories about the legendary Avatar who will come to end the war. After two years at sea, he starts to suspect that some of these rumours might be true--and it seems that the Northern Water Tribe sent two teens to look after the most wanted man in the world.ORThe one where the stories of the Avatar and his companions reach Hakoda while he’s at sea and he makes some (incorrect) assumptions.
Comments: 114
Kudos: 1677





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tumblr post:
> 
> https://bonesbuckleup.tumblr.com/post/614426154971086848/so-do-you-think-that-the-southern-warriors-kept
> 
> (I can’t figure out how to link for the life of me lol)
> 
> Part 2 should be out in a few days

The first time Hakoda hears the full legend of the Avatar, he’s fourteen years old and repatching the village’s outer wall after a raid. 

He packs the snow—tight and firm—and tries not to think about the members of his tribe the Fire Nation just hauled away. His arms ache from the motion and his furs are soaked through with sweat and snow. Hakoda grits his teeth and keeps working. 

Next to him, one of the village girls—Kya, who’s a few years his junior and sometimes more than a little annoying—starts to help. She pushes a bundle of dry snow toward the base of a crack and smushes her hand over it. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Hakoda says. 

She quirks an eyebrow at him and puts her hands on her hips. “Oh yeah?”

“Do you really think that way is gonna fix it?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Well, how would you do it if you’re so wise?”

Hakoda scoops down, under the dusty top layer of snow, and pulls out a mittful of wet snow. He pushes it into the wide crack in the wall and packs it tight with his hands. “It has to be the right type, you see? The dry snow doesn’t stick. Makes for a bad wall.”

“Hmm.” Kya says. “I can think of a better use of wet snow.”

Before Hakoda can ask her what she means, a cold lump collides with his jaw. The slush drags down his cheek and a few stray pieces drip and slide under the collar of his fur. “Hey!” He pulls his parka away from his skin and shakes it out, hoping to get the icy pieces away from his body. 

Kya bends over in a peel of laughter. If she wasn’t a girl, Hakoda would’ve fired one back. Instead, he wipes off his face. “This is serious! What if the Fire Nation comes again?”

At that, she sobers up. Her face falls and she straightens her spine before reaching down and scooping wet snow into the crack in the wall. “I know you think I’m a dumb kid—“

“—I don’t—“

“You do.” She packs the snow into the split without looking up. “But I understand how serious this is. How could I not?” She waves her hand toward the village. “How could anyone not! Our home is a shadow of what it once was. And the Fire Nation keeps coming.”

Hakoda sighs. “That’s why we need to fight.”

“What good is our fight without the Avatar,” Kya mumbles. She brushes a piece of her dark hair away from her face and her stubborn brow creases in concentration. 

“The what?”

“You haven’t heard of the legend of the Avatar?”

“No, I’m just asking you cause I want you to retell a story I already know.” 

She glares. “This war has been dragging on nearly 75 years now. There was a legend, my mother told me, about the Avatar. A bender who could master all four elements.”

Oh. Maybe Hakoda has heard this one. Or at least heard of it. It was scarcely more than a child’s story, though. 

“The Avatar is the one who will bring balance to the world. She—“

“I thought it was a guy.”

Kya crosses her arms and glares. “Well, no one’s seen the avatar in almost a hundred years, so who’s to say she’s not a girl?”

She did have a point. Hakoda shut up. 

“The avatar was supposed to be born into the air nomads,” she continues. “But no one knows what happened. Some think that the avatar is alive and in hiding. Others think that she died long ago. I—I don’t know if I should say this, but my mother thinks that might be why the Fire Nation keeps coming for us. If the air avatar did die, the next avatar would be born a waterbender.” She cast down her head. 

Hakoda pauses. If that story was true, and if the avatar was the one they needed to bring balance to the world, was there any chance they could win the war unaided? 

“Look,” Hakoda said softly. “I know it’s not easy, but I promise you that the Fire Nation won’t win this war. With or without the avatar.” He stood a little straighter and tried to command as much confidence as he could. Holding his people together was a chief’s job, after all, and most days Hakoda felt he needed all the practice he could get. 

Kya gave him a thin smile in return. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Of course,” Hakoda says. Maybe the whole ‘confident and inspiring chief’ thing won’t be so bad. In fact... “I meant, just look at the wall we fixed today. We did that ourselves, didn’t we?”

She steps back, her light eyes sweeping over the snow. “Hmm, It’s pretty good, but I think you missed a spot.”

“Where?” Hakoda’s eyes dart up. He could’ve sworn—

A wet lump smacks into the back of his head. The frigid runoff trickles down his neck and dips under his fur. Again. 

Kya is laughing. Again. Her round cheeks are dimpled and her eyes are squeezed shut. 

“That’s it,” Hakoda swears. He digs into the snow and rounds a ball of his own. “You're going down, Kya!”

* * *

Over his teenage years, he hears rumbles of the Avatar surge and fall. It’s natural, Hakoda thinks, to believe the legend might be more than just that. 

“I heard the Avatar is starting a rebellion from within the Fire Nation,” Nanouk says one day while they’re fishing. 

Hakoda hauls his empty net into the canoe. “Really?” he asks, because they’re far from the shore and still have a long day ahead of them. He casts the net back into the frigid water and looks up at the pale sky. 

“It’s true,” Nanouk says. “I heard it from Kallik, who heard it from Bato, who heard it from Amka’s father.”

“And how does Amka’s father know?”

Nanouk shrugs. “He’s been to the Earth Kingdom. He’d know.”

“Hmm.” Hakoda leans back in the canoe and kicks his feet up. “Well, for all our sakes, let’s hope that’s true.”

He doesn’t ask Nanouk how the news of the Avatar’s return has reached the South Pole before it’s reached the ears of the Fire Lord. The truth is that if—and Hakoda means _if_ —the Avatar ever returns, their lonely tribe at the bottom of the world will be the last to know. 

* * *

Hakoda wonders if it’s possible to crack from stress. He swears that one day, he’ll shatter into pieces. Between his new duties as chief and entertaining the visiting dignitaries from the North pole, he’s already worn thin. The fact that Kya’s due any day now threatens to push him to the breaking point—even if, gods willing, she and the baby are healthy, he really has no clue how to be a father. 

He’s walking back from the meeting at night—though the sun only flushes the horizon this time of year, never dipping below—when he feels a hand clap down on his shoulder. Hakoda snaps his head up, reaches for his club, and nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Relax, it’s me,” Bato says and raises his hands in mock surrender. “No need to knock me out.”

“Sorry.” Hakoda rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a long week.”

Bato’s mouth quirks up in a smile—the same kind he used to give Hakoda when they were boys, wanting to sneak off and play in the tundra. “I thought you’d say that,” he says, “which is why I brought this—” from his bag, Bato pulls out a small package. “Seal jerky,” he says, “and I hear that our Northern friends had the foresight to stop and pick up some Sake from the Earth Kingdom on their journey.” 

Hakoda could sing. “Bato, I think I owe you my firstborn.”

Bato laughs. “I think Kya might have something to say about that.”

Outside of Bato’s tent, they sit by the low fire, snacking on the jerky and sipping the sake. The breeze is cool, but not enough to chill them or send them back inside. 

One of the things Hakoda appreciates the most about Bato is that the man knows when to talk and when to stay silent. After the week of talks with the Northern Water Tribe, Hakoda couldn’t make decent conversation if he tried. 

“You know,” Bato says, after a few comfortable minutes. “I heard the Northerners talking about the Avatar.”

Hakoda takes a gulp of the sake and lets his throat burn. “Well, I’m glad they’re being so realistic.”

Bato lets out a puff of laughter. “Guess they heard a rumour while travelling that there were a few Air Nomads left. Gives them hope, you know—just talking about it.” 

Hakoda sighs. “I guess. But should we really be putting stock in those old stories?” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. A few years ago, he was happy to entertain the fantasy. But now the wellbeing of the village rests on his shoulders. “It just seems...childish.” 

“Hope isn’t just for kids,” Bato says. He swirls the sake around in his cup. In the low light of the midnight sun, Bato looks older than Hakoda is used to. There are a few more lines carved into his forehead, even if they’re only visible when he concentrates. His eyes are missing their usual spark. “We could all use a little of it, especially now.”

Hakoda sits still and pushes his toes closer to the fire.

“The Northern chief has a child on the way, too. His wife is back at the pole. The Fire Nation is going to come for them next—if the Air avatar dies, the new one will be born a water bender. Their walls won’t hold forever. 

“The two of you aren’t so different, Koda.”

Hakoda wants to tip his cup back and drink until the swelling fear in his chest disappears. They don’t have enough sake for that. “It’s just—” he swallows, “I just—I don’t know how to do this. How to be a chief. How to be a _dad._ I mean, what are we thinking! Having a kid in the middle of an endless war,” Hakoda’s voice cracks. 

Bato, thankfully, stays silent for a beat. 

“Life needs to keep going,” he says softly. “With or without the Avatar, we’ll see this thing through to the end.”

 _One way or another,_ Hakoda mentally tacks on. The war can’t keep going on. Sooner, rather than later, the war will end. And Hakoda can’t decide what terrifies him more—the Fire Nation claiming victory, or the sacrifices they’ll have to make to ensure the Fire Nation never will. 

Above them—Hakoda and Bato and the crackling fire—the morning star shines through the twilight.

* * *

Leaving the South Pole hollows out Hakoda’s soul. The faces of Sokka and Katara are frozen in his mind—the way they’d mustered up the bravery to hide their fear and pain. 

They’re too young to have such a weight. Sokka: trying to lead and protect the people. Katara: teaching herself waterbending and keeping Sokka functioning. It’s too much. There’s nothing he wants more than to be there, protecting and caring for them. 

And he only hopes he will be, one day. 

But the Earth Kingdom needs the men and the ships and the help. 

One day, at a port in the South, they dock to restock their supplies. Hakoda rolls the last barrel full of rice aboard their ship. He dusts off his hands and walks down to thank the Earth Kingdom soldiers for their help. 

The soldier closest to him—a young man who could be more than a few years older than Sokka—nods solemnly. “Of course,” he says, “we’re happy to support our Southern friends.”

The young man’s eyes dart to the side and he lowers his voice. “Between you and me, restocking some ships is a much better job than cleaning the cavalry’s stable.”  
Hakoda chuckles. Can’t blame the kid for that. Given the choice, Hakoda would much rather be loading naval ships than scooping dung. 

“Hey—you’ve travelled far, right?” The young soldier gives him a look so earnest that Hakoda doesn’t have the heart to tell him this isn’t the time for small talk. 

Hakoda nods. 

“Have you heard anything about the Avatar?”

 _This again?_ Hakoda gently shakes his head. No point in crushing the kid’s hope. “Last time I heard about the Avatar was many moons ago, and it was only a rumour.”

“Did you hear the Fire Nation caught him?”

Hakoda’s heart pulses and stops for longer than it should. “No.” He means it doubly: no, he hadn’t heard; and no, he couldn’t imagine the kind of horror that would if that were true. 

The soldier’s head bobs. “Yep. He got away though, but not before taking down an entire crew and burying their ship in an iceberg.”

“Hmm.” Hakoda makes a mental note to ask the Northern tribe about that the next time they meet. Even if it wasn’t the Avatar (which it probably wasn’t), there must be some grain of truth to the story. 

“That’s quite impressive,” he says to the boy. 

“Can you imagine his skill? The Avatar must be over a hundred, but he still knocked out the crew single-handedly.”

“A worthy feat.”

The young soldier nods. “I was just looking for some more details, you know? About the fight and everything. The only reason I know as much as I do is 'cause one of the Fire Nation’s crew defected. But I doubt he told the whole truth.”

Hakoda smiles lightly. “Let’s hope one day we can hear the story from the Avatar himself.”

The soldier lets out a low whistle. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

Yes, Hakoda decides. Yes, it would. 

* * *

“Did you hear the news!” a young girl—maybe Katara’s age—calls to her friend across the market. 

Her friend’s head bobs up and down, her dark hair flying wildly. “The Avatar is on Kyoshi Island!”

Hakoda shakes his head and keeps scouring the stall for the fabric he needs to fix their sail. 

“I heard he’s hot. Half the village was swooning over him,” the first girl says. She twirls a loop of hair around her finger. “Not that _I_ would.”

"You wouldn't stand a chance, Min. I heard he’s got a thing for the Waterbender girl he’s travelling with.”

Now _that_ piques Hakoda’s interest. “I’m sorry,” he says as he looks over his shoulder. “Did you say the Avatar is travelling with a waterbender?”

The second girl nods. “Two, actually!”

“And they’re our age!” The first girl beams as if that’s something to be excited about. 

Hakoda pinches the bridge of his nose. If—and Hakoda means if—the Avatar is really back, and if he’s really travelling with two teenage waterbenders… then gods help them all. He hopes that Chief Arnook wouldn’t be so dense as to send out the most wanted man in the world with a couple of kids as his only defence.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you hear?” Bato asks, his lips curling up in a laugh. “The waterbenders the Avatar is travelling with got themselves arrested for causing mischief in Omashu.”

Hakoda tries not to roll his eyes and mostly fails. “I’m so glad that the Northern Tribe put their best people on this job.”

Bato shakes his head. “They only walked free ‘cause the Avatar’s an old friend of the king. I heard they knew each other as kids.”

“Wait,” Hakoda says and sits up straight. “Isn’t the king of Omashu like a hundred years old?”

Bato nods slowly. 

Great. The hope of ending the war rests on the shoulders of a centenarian and two teens so thick they couldn’t keep themselves out of jail in the Earth Kingdom. 

They didn’t stand a chance in hell against the Fire Nation. 

Great. 

* * *

“The Avatar and the waterbenders helped liberate a prison full of earthbenders,” Nanouk says.

“Good for them,” Hakoda replies. 

* * *

They ambush the Fire Nation soldiers at dusk. It’s the best time for their attacks--without the sun, their bending is weak. And although none of Hakoda’s warriors are waterbenders, it’s impossible not to feel the blessing of the moon at their backs.

His men fight bravely.

The fire surrounds him in a flurry. He grits his teeth and fights back. Knocks an arrow and sends it sailing into the crowd of men clad in black. His warriors follow suit with their arrows and spears and swords and shields. This is the Fire Nation’s greatest weakness: they underestimate the other nations. They hold their own superiority too close to their hearts--they never believe they’ll lose until they’re backed against the ocean and surrounded. 

Which they are, at the moment. And, with no other choice, they surrender. 

Hakoda doesn’t smile at this. Even their victories are hollow. 

“Take them to the Earth Kingdom prison,” he instructs Nanouk, who nods curtly and begins ordering the other men.

Hakoda looks back over his shoulder. Bato and he will have to get to work repairing their ship that took damage if they want to sail out by morning. They’ve received orders to go to the Eastern Earth Kingdom and…

Bato isn’t here. Hakoda’s head snaps as he scans the beach for his old friend. “Bato?”

A groan sounds from the brush on the far edge. 

Hakoda sprints--his legs burning and his head spinning.

Bato’s braced against a rock, trying to stand. His one arm shakes with his weight. His other is tucked against his chest. 

Hakoda’s gut twists. Bato’s arm is burnt and bent at an unnatural angle. His eyes are uneven--one pupil is wide while the other is narrowed to a pinpoint. 

“Hey, hey,” Hakoda says. He shoulders Bato’s weight. 

Bato nods slowly and winces with the small movement. 

Hakoda isn’t a healer, but he’s been around enough to know when in injury is bad. Bato needs more help than Hakoda can give. He’s in no state to travel, let alone board a ship going to war. His injuries might not be fatal, but improper healing could change that. Hakoda swallows. “There’s an abbey not far from here.”

Bato is too dazed to reply. He tries to walk, or even limp, but Hakoda mostly carries him up the hill to the nuns. 

“Help him,” he asks.

The sister nods solemnly. “We’ll do our best.”

Leaving Bato feels like leaving a piece of himself behind. In all but blood, Bato is his brother. A partner in crime, yes, but also a rational voice when the stress starts eating at him. 

When it comes time for their ship to sail, Bato is still unconscious. Hakoda writes a note. He promises they’ll organize a rendezvous.  _ It’s not a matter of if we’ll meet again, it’s a matter of when _ , he writes.

As he watches the shore disappear behind him, he hopes to the spirits that he won’t make a liar out of himself. 

* * *

  
  


At a port on the Southern edge of the Earth Kingdom, two teens lounge by the docks. They look related, Hakoda things. Probably siblings or cousins, at least. 

“Have you heard from Dae?” asks the taller boy. 

The younger one shakes his head. 

“She got back last night. I overheard—“

“You mean you  _ eavesdropped _ —“

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you wanna hear my story or not?”

The younger one clamps his jaw shut. 

“Dae swore she met the Avatar. Honest to gods.”

“It’s true! Ask her, if you want. She met the Avatar in a village at the edge of a burnt-out forest and guess what? The Avatar went to the mother-fucking  _ spirit world  _ to save some Water Tribe teenage-warrior idiot who was supposed to protect him.”

The kids split into rocky laughter. 

Hakoda sucks in a breath. Spirits help him. Spirits help them all. 

* * *

And so it goes on like that as they travel East. 

His men bring up snippets of the legends they’ve heard some nights while they’re eating. Things like: ‘the Avatar went to a temple in the fire nation’ or ‘one of his waterbender guards started a fight with a half-dozen pirates’. 

When they dock, he hears even more stories. Ports are places of trade, after all, for goods and tales alike. A lone sailor will ramble on about how the Avatar’s guardian teenager almost joined a gang of freedom-fighting vigilantes. A vendor at a market will sell Hakoda tea and throw in a story about how the Avatar crossed the Great Divide for no extra cost. 

There’s no denying the rumours now. There has to be some grain of truth to them. The Avatar has to be back. And he has to be travelling with two teens from the Northern Water Tribe—though Hakoda can’t be certain if they’re waterbenders or warriors or (as one sullen teen insisted) lovers. The last one makes Hakoda shudder when he considers it. The Avatar is over a hundred. Well… according to some stories, at least. He’s also heard a few versions were the Avatar is a brave warrior in the prime of his life, but has more muscles than brains. Given the other tales Hakoda’s heard, the latter half of that must be true. But more concerning than that is the one lady he meets that insists the Avatar is only a child. The man destined to save them all would rather go watch rabbitdoves than end the war. 

But, no matter what the truth is, he stays tight-lipped. Chief Arnook likely had a good reason to send two teens off with the Avatar, no matter what their abilities were. And, sure, it seemed more like the Avatar was trotting around the world just to find mischief than actively working to end the war. 

And, even if Arnook had lost his brains long before sending two teens out with the most important man on earth, it wasn’t his place to criticize. At least not publicly. Bad-mouthing the chief of their sister tribe in front of his men was not an option for Hakoda. If Bato was still around, Hakoda would talk his ear off about the stupidity of it all. 

Instead, he let it all churn in his head until he was certain the vein in his forehead will explode. Still, he ignores the side-comments his men make about the stories. He doesn’t want to shame the other leader, but he’s in no mood to defend his actions either. 

Because,  _ honestly _ , what was he thinking?

* * *

It starts with a rookie’s mistake. Hakoda is adjusting a sail when an unexpected gale of wind blows in. The sail strains under the wind and the rope in Hakoda’s hands pulls forward--the roughness scraping his skin raw and red. 

“Fuck,” he balks at the sting. 

Nanouk scrambles forward and grabs the rope, hauling the sail back in position. Toklo (one of the younger men) steps forward to help Hakoda.

“You alright, chief?” 

Hakoda nods curtly. “I’m fine,” he says as he stands and waves away Toklo. “Just made a dumb mistake.”

“You should get some salve on that,” Nanouk says, jerking his chin towards Hakoda’s hand. “Heal them up before you get a nasty infection.”

A few of the other men eye Hakoda wearily. The air between them is tense. He understands--they must be concerned for him while also apprehensive about the stupidity of his mistake. 

“Maybe I should help…?” Toklo gives Hakoda a half-smile, but his words sound uncertain. They can’t have their chief down for the count when Bato is also out of the picture.

So, Hakoda does what he does best. He cracks a joke. 

“I’m fine, really,” he insists. “Besides, if I needed someone to watch out for me, I’d hire a couple of teenagers.”

The laughter starts slow with a strangled chuckle from Nanouk. A few men look unsure if Hakoda is joking or not. But, once Toklo leans forward in a split of laughter, it catches like fire. The tension on the boot splits. 

And for the first time in the weeks since they left Bato behind, Hakoda feels like he can breathe again.

* * *

It becomes a running gag. 

Don’t want to clean dishes? You should hire a few teenagers. Fishing net comes up empty? Should’ve paid a kid to do it instead. 

A small part of it nags at Hakoda--they really shouldn’t be taking shots at Chief Arnook’s choice, as easy as it might be. On the other hand, his men’s spirits are higher than they’ve been in a long time.

So he’s not about to shut the jokes down. 

Besides, his decision isn’t only out of practicality. He loves the jokes too

And maybe if Arnook was dull enough to send a few teens to protect the most wanted man on earth...well, he might kind of deserve a few quips. 

* * *

“Did you hear who broke the Avatar out of a Fire Nation prison?” asks the Earth Kingdom soldier. "It was the _Blue Spirit."_

“Not a teenager?” Hakoda says without thinking.

“What?”

“You know what, nevermind.”

* * *

“The Avatar saved a town from a volcanic eruption!” Yuka says at dinner one night.

Toklo smirks. “Are you sure it wasn’t the teenagers who saved the day?” 

“They’re the finest warriors in the kingdom, after all,” Nanouk jumps in.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Hakoda says, drawing a line in the air with his hand. The men quiet and the only sound is the scrape of a spoon against a wooden bowl.

“We should stop talking about the teens,” Hakoda continues. “They’re probably getting sick of taking all the credit.”

He laughs at his own joke. It was a good one. 

* * *

The rumblings continue as they make their way East. The Avatar this, the Avatar that. But Hakoda starts to let the stories drift past him--he has something else he’s looking forward to now. He sent the note to Bato a week ago. Spirits willing, he should meet his friend in a few days. 

He hopes his old friend is ready to listen. He has over a month of problems he needs advice on. And it’s not like there are any teenagers onboard he can ask. 

* * *

They reach the rendezvous point on the beach at dawn. Bato’s not there yet--Hakoda would have been surprised if he was. Still, there was a part inside of him that wished he’d seen his old friend sitting on a rock, waiting for the Southern Warriors, as if it were no different than the fishing trips they used to take. 

Nanouk claps him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Chief. Even if Bato makes good time, he won’t be here until noon.”

Hakoda nods solemnly. There’s a lot to do on their ship, anyway. The deck needs to be swabbed and dishes need to be cleaned a net needs to be patched. Over the last few weeks, small jobs have piled up. In the safety of the cove, it’s the perfect time to catch up on the mundane tasks. Hakoda sets to work fixing their net, his eyes trained on the horizon. Behind his breastbone, there’s a hollow ache. Every blip he sees on the horizon makes his hopes surge. But, time and again, it’s not Bato. Instead, he gets a small fishing boat, a lionseal, and a patch of floating wood. 

When the day rolls into night, Hakoda starts to lose faith. If Bato’s not back by dawn, they’ll have to move on without him. They’ve taken a long enough detour as is.

“Why don’t you rest,” Nanouk offers. Hakoda thinks it’s probably because his pacing is driving the rest of the crew up the wall, but it’s well-intentioned either way. “We’ll wake you up when he gets here.”

Hakoda appreciated that Nanouk doesn’t say ‘if’.

And, surprisingly, he manages a fitful sleep. It speaks more to his exhaustion than anything else. 

A sharp rap on the door wakes Hakoda up. He sits straight, rubs the sleep out of eyes, and tries to orient himself. 

Toklo stands at the door, torch in one hand. The firelight casts shadows on his face and highlights his wide smile. “ _ Chief,”  _ he says, his voice dripping in excitement, “Bato’s here. And he met the freaking  _ Avatar.” _

Before Hakoda even consciously realizes what he’s doing, he’s rushing up from below deck. Sure enough, Bato’s boat is docked at the shore. Around a small campfire, half a dozen of his men are sitting, talking, and laughing. 

Including Bato. His arm is still bandaged, but he looks healthy and strong and in good spirits. He turns to see the noise on deck and cracks into a grin. “Hakoda.”

Hakoda climbs down to the shore and pulls his friend into a hug. “Bato. Kept yourself alive, I see,” he jokes.

“I have the nuns to thank for that.”

Hakoda raises an eyebrow. “Maybe more than the nuns, if Toklo is telling the truth.”

Bato’s grin falters. 

“Is it true?”

He sighs. “I did meet the Avatar,” he says. “But spirits, he’s just a kid.”

Well, that’s new. Out of all the rumours about the Avatar’s age, Hakoda never would have guessed  _ that _ was the truth. 

Bato shakes his head. “But that’s not important right now. I need to talk to you. Because I--well, I met some other people along the way.”

“The idiot teens the Avatar travels with?” Hakoda can’t help the smug grin on his face.

“Well, here’s the thing, Hakoda.” Bato rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “They’re your idiots.”

“What?” 

“The teens travelling with the Avatar. They’re Katara and Sokka.”

“I--I,” Hakoda’s mind races. “What?”

“Think about it.”

And Hakoda does. Kyoshi Island, Omashu, the coastal cities…  _ Spirits _ . They were always travelling North. Not South. How hadn’t he noticed? His head spins and he feels as if someone landed a good hit to his gut. 

“You should be proud.”

He is, in a way. But he also feels as if he caught a fever. “Are they safe?”

“They look out for each other,” Bato replies.

It’s the most Hakoda can hope for. He sits on the sand and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Bato sits next to him and rests in easy silence. “They’re exactly like you and Kya, you know.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with a sigh. He knows what he was like at their age. He leans back and looks through the light cloud at the stars.  _ Spirits, keep them safe. Bring them home. _

“You’ll see them again, Hakoda,” Bato says. He rests his good hand on Hakoda’s upper arm. 

Hakoda manages a nod. 

After a few steady beats, Hakoda coughs. “Hey, listen, have you, uh, told anyone else?”

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”

“Oh.” Hakoda pulls his mouth into a line and swallows. “So, uh, do you think you could make sure I’m not around when you tell the crew?”

Bato takes his turn to sigh. “Spirits, ‘Koda. What did you do?”

“I might’ve started a running joke.”

“I leave for a few weeks--”

“I know, I know,” Hakoda raises his hands in mock surrender.

Bato shakes his head, exasperated. “You know, Sokka has your sense of humour.”

“Really?”

“No need to sound so excited.”

Hakoda chuckles lightly. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to  _ be _ back. I need my pack.” Bato waves him off. “Now get back to bed if you don’t want to listen to me break the news that those ‘idiot teens’ belong to you.”

As Hakoda walks back to his quarters. He swears to himself that if--and Hakoda means if--he ever hears ridiculous rumours again, he’ll pass no judgement. Of course, his life would be much easier if he never heard a rumour again. 

He settles into his bunk. He knows he won’t be able to look the crew in the eyes tomorrow. It’s all his damn fault, too. 

Maybe he’s the idiot. 


End file.
